Dinner Time

First published in Flash Fiction Magazine.

Margaret toddled down the hall on her way to dinner. She didn't normally wear pajamas when she went out, but there wasn't enough time to change. 

She stopped to look at a painting she didn't recognize. The sign on one building had the words Cafe Bourgeois. Aliz's Pub was on another. The streets were narrow and cobblestoned, the buildings small and old, like her. She moved on. A wheel on her walker wobbled with each step.

Margaret reached the dining hall and noticed the man sitting at a table in the corner. His gray hair was cut short--military style. His eyes were closed. He wore slippers. She frowned and looked away. 

It bothered her that no one else was seated. People needed to be on time. It was a rule.

Leaving her walker along the wall,  the one with a large calendar listing activities for July, she made her way to her chair. The menu perched in the middle of the table had two pages—one for lunch and one for dinner. She read the dinner side, crinkled her nose when she got to broiled fish and nodded at the chicken pot pie.

"Hello, Margaret."

"Hello," Margaret parroted and added a wave, like she saw the Queen do on TV.

"What are you doing here?" the woman dressed in an orange blouse and pants set with Karen on her nametag said. "You should be in bed."

"I'm hungry. I came down for dinner."

"It's 2:00 in the morning."

"But I'm hungry." Frustration spread across Margaret's face. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, Margaret." Karen smiled and put a hand on the older woman's shoulder. "It's been a long night. How about a package of cookies and some juice? Will that hold you until breakfast?"

"I guess it'll have to," Margaret mumbled.

"Well, I can always sneak you another package of cookies if one isn't enough." Karen bent down so her lips were near Margaret's ear. "Our little secret. Okay?"

"How about him?" Margaret nodded toward the man in the corner. "Will he tell on us?"

"Nah," Karen said with a wave, like she was shooing a fly. "He's probably asleep."

Margaret went back to reading the menu. When Karen returned with a glass of apple juice and a package of peanut butter cookies, Margaret looked up and, pointing at the menu, said, "I'll have the chicken pot pie and fruit cup."

 

Blood is Thicker

Shannon has loved Charissa ever since her first role as a destitute private detective. He began to follow her around town and was familiar with all her disguises. Tonight, as they approached the alley, he pulled the dagger from his jacket, ready to help his sister obtain her dream part.

What We Know

First published in Literary Cocktail Magazine

Mom walked us down the aisle for Sunday worship smiling. Dad was home alone. We think.

Dad worked at the local hardware store. We think. 

Mom subbed at our elementary school a couple of days each week. We think.

Mrs. Andersen was mom’s best friend in high school, not so much now. We think.

Dad slept on the couch most nights. We think.

Dad spent more time with Mrs. Andersen than mom did. We think.

Mom packed a suitcase and left for good with Nathan’s teacher, Mr. Johnston. We think.

Mrs. Andersen (call me June) moved in with us permanently. We think.

We are confused and afraid, but know things will be okay 

because Dad loves us more. 

We think.

Learn more about Literary Cocktail Magazine here.

Blink of an Eye

Blink

It’s my first day of kindergarten. Mom is more excited than I am.

Blink

Smiling, I strut across the stage to receive my high school diploma. I hear Mom cheering me on.

Blink

I watch snowflakes slalom lazily past the window, my newborn on my chest. I wish mom was here.

Blink

Greetings From Spain

Hola de Madrid mi amiga Carla.

Is that right? It's been a while since we sat next to each other in Spanish class. Can you believe we'll celebrate our twenty-fifth high school reunion next year at this time?

Charlie and I spent our first day at the Parque del Retiro. It was a great place to walk off our jet lag. Well, it was for me. Charlie spent most of the time sneezing, and wheezing, and complaining about sneezing and wheezing. 

Remember I told you this was supposed to be a two-day business trip followed by a long-needed vacation? Well, Charlie’s first meeting lasted longer than scheduled—that didn’t bode well—so I ate lunch at our hotel, then went back to the park by myself. I don’t know anything about architecture, but the main building looked fabulous from the outside; and intimidating. The rose gardens made my little patch look listless. Would you believe a guy hit on me? Hahaha.

That's all for now. Say hi to Frank and the girls.

Love, Marci

***

Hola, Carla.

Charlie and I spent a week in Toledo. I liked Madrid better. Toledo was crowded and the people seemed rushed. As usual, Charlie spent much of his day answering emails and talking on the phone. Some things never change. Hahaha. 

Say hi to Frank and the girls.

Love, Marci.

***

Hola, Carla.

I didn't return to Madrid with Charlie. I decided to stay an extra week and explore a bunch of small towns around Toledo. He had to get back to deal with some big deal business problem only he could handle. I miss him. I’m not sure why.

Say hi to Frank and the girls.

Love, Marci

***

Hola, Carla.

As I’m sure you figured out by the longer than usual gap between notes, I extended my trip again. I hope you weren’t worried. I returned to Madrid, rented a car, and drove to Seville. It should have taken five hours, but I stopped many times along the way to stroll the streets and visit with the locals. 

I spent a day in Seville, stayed in a wonderful hotel, and then drove to Gibraltar. That is some honker of a rock. Hahaha. The coast is beautiful, and the water is so blue. I've never seen anything like it. The people are friendly, and they made me feel right at home. I could spend the rest of my life here.

I haven’t heard from Charlie. Have you?

Say hi to Frank and the girls.

Love, Marci

P.S. My Spanish is almost immaculado. Hahaha

***

Hola, Carla.

Remember in my last e-mail when I said I could spend the rest of my life in Gibraltar? Well, I decided to. You know I haven't been happy. Charlie's always working. Brent and Amy are grown with their own families. I felt lost and unneeded at home. I haven't told Charlie or the kids yet. I guess I need to do that soon.

Do you also remember I told you about that guy who hit on me in Madrid? Well, it happened again—a different guy this time—at an ocean village along the marina. I was browsing in one of the antique shops and started chatting with the owner. The next thing I knew we were eating dinner at this lovely restaurant on the water. He asked me out again. At first, I said I couldn't. I was married. But back at the bar in my hotel over a nightcap, I changed my mind.

Alesander is taking me out on his boat tomorrow. I’ve never ridden in a boat before. I’m nervous already.

Say hi to Frank and the girls.

Love, Marci

***

OMG! I can't believe it. I slept with Alesander. It was great. It's been so long since...Well, you don't need to know that. Hahaha.

Anyway, I called Charlie today to let him know I wouldn't be back. He asked what he should do with my clothes. Can you believe that?

Alesander is taking me to a nude beach today. What was I thinking when I agreed? I know, you're thinking that's so unlike Marci. Well, I guess this is the new Marci. Hahaha.

If you and Frank ever want to get away, we have an extra bedroom. Oh, I guess I didn't tell you. Alesander and I are living together. I'm going to fry in Hell, and I don't care. Hahaha. Anyway, consider this an open invitation to come visit anytime. The nude beach is optional. Hahaha.

Say hi to Frank and the girls.

Love, Marci

---

Jim Harrington lives in Huntersville, NC, with his wife and two dogs. His stories have appeared in Ariel Chart, Short-Story.me, CommuterLit, Fewer Thank 500, and others. You can reach Jim at jpharrin@gmail.com.